Die Einzige Ausnahme
by AniMesXVIII
Summary: A series of short stories revealing the childhood and life of Franziska von Karma and her 'little brother'. Chapter 4: You would think by now Miles Edgeworth would learn. Franziska was always right. ALWAYS.
1. Chapter 1: Süße Sechzehn

Disclaimer: I do not own Phoenix Wright:Ace Attorney. I am merely borrowing the wonderful characters.

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Süße Sechzehn

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February 20, 2015

Von Karma Mansion, Germany

6:05 pm

"Did you get my package, Franziska?" The yearly phone call came without a hitch.

"Yes, Miles Edgeworth, I received it." He was always so busy.

"Did you open it?" Yet, he always found time on her birthday.

"Do you think me some child who can not even follow simple instructions?" she snaps at him, but she does not do it to scold him. "Your foolish scrawl was all over the foolish box! 'Do not open until I call you.' Is that not what it said?" She does it for a response.

"It is indeed. Your wisdom far surpasses your years, Fräulein von Karma." A reaction.

"Is that your idea of calling me a smart ass, bruderlein?" Something to prove that he is listening. To know he listens to her.

He clucks his tongue at her foulness. "My, my, such language, fräulein." She imagines him shaking his head in his condescending way. She wishes he were he were here…

"Shut up. You know I hate when you call me that, Miles Edgeworth." …So that she could slap him for his insolence.

"I am sorry, Franziska. Why don't you open your present?" he asks her. His gift.

"…Alright." For her.

"…"

"…"

"…Well?"

"A-a whip?"

"I thought you could use an upgrade from that old riding crop."

"…Thank you." He thinks of her.

"What about your other gift?"

"What other gift?"

"There should be another item in that package."

"…I do not see anything. Only the whip and packaging peanuts."

"Hm. That's odd. There should be-- "*ding-dong*

"…"

"Was that the door bell?"

No.

"Yes." But it can wait.

"You should answer it. It might be someone to wish you a happy birthday."

"Yes, or carolers who are two months late."

He chuckles. "Perhaps." He pauses, she pictures his smirking face. "Go answer it."

"But…" I still want to talk to you.

He seems to know what she thinks. "Don't worry. I will talk to you later." A promise. "I will try to find out where your wayward gift has run off to, as well."

"…very well. Goodbye, Miles Edgeworth." Her brother knows her so well.

"Goodbye, Franziska. Talk to you soon."

Again, she was alone.

No one was with her on her birthday.

Her father was away on business.

Her sister made herself scarce with the excuse of having a family to tend to.

The servants in the house were too frightened to say anything to her, let alone wish her a happy birthday.

Miles Edgeworth was the only person to ever go out his way for her. She had no idea why.

Perhaps some attachment he had to their childhood. Was it guilt? Was it pity?

Or was it something else?

Franziska did not know. But, why did she look forward to his calls, however rare they may be?

Did she miss him? No.

No.

To miss him would be weakness.

Weakness was certainly not perfection. So she did not miss him.

*ding-dong*

"Coming!" Hold your horses you foolish fool--

"It would appear that I got lost in the mail."

"…"

"…Franziska?" He stands in front of her with an expectant look plastered on his smug face.

"…It would seem that the German postal system is lacking compared to the Americans', hm?"

He laughs, relieved.

Her heart plummets into her stomach because she, too, is relieved. Of what she is not entirely sure. "It would seem that way." A reaction.

"Well, bruderlein, you may as well come in." It took all her will power not to launch herself at him. Three years was too long. But, she did not miss him.

He bends in a deep, melodramatic bow. "Why, thank you for your humble hospitality." He straightens and follows her into the house. Or is it home? "It was getting quite nippy out there."

"Then why were you standing out in the cold like a fool and just knock like a normal person?"

"I thought it would be a fun to give you a little surprise. It has been so long since we've seen one another." Too long.

"Hm…I suppose it was a nice surprise." It was a wonderful surprise, but… "I thought you said you have a trial in the morning?"

"I do."

"WHAT?!"

"I plan on catching the red eye back to California tonight."

"This has to be the most foolhardy idea your foolish head has ever come up with!" She isn't really angry.

"I know."

"Then why…?"

"I thought my big sister could use some company on her sixteenth birthday, even if it was just a foolishly foolish fool."

"Hmph." No, she not angry…

"Franziska, please don't be upset with me…" …just a little…disappointed.

"I'm not upset, I just…" want you to stay. "Thank you."

"…For what?" Everything.

"…for being here with me." Please don't leave.

"…I'll always be here for you."

"…You shouldn't say that…" Don't lie.

"Why not?"

"Because in a few hours you will be on a plane back to America and I probably won't see you for another three years!"

"…Franziska."

"So don't tell me you will always be here for me when I'm going to be alone again before I even get used to having you home for this short time!" Why is it home now? "You always leave me!"

"…I meant metaphorically, I will always be here for you." That's not good enough!

"But I will still be alone!" She was practically in tears now.

Why? Why was she acting like this? These emotions! They make her weak, imperfect. What would Father say…?

It was all this fool's fault.

"That's why I got you that whip."

"What?" He was her weakness.

"To fight alone, one needs a weapon."

"…I do not understand."

"You will one day." One day? I want to know now! "Just know that--OW!"

S-she whipped him.

"Do not speak to me as if I am an ignorant child, Miles Edgeworth. You are speaking in riddles and I demand that you tell me what you mean!"

He rubbed at his sore cheek. A frown adorned his once smirking face. "…I only meant that when you feel that you have no one, just remember no one is ever truly alone. But, until you realize that for yourself, I think this whip will come in handy…especially since you seem to be so inept with it already." He smiles and her stomach flops yet again.

When had she become such a silly teenage girl? She was never like this before…

"I am a fast learner, Miles."

He smiles. "I know, Franziska."

They spend the rest of their time together talking about anything; trials, the weather, the migration of the African sparrow…

When it is time for Miles to make his way back to America, Franziska tries not to show that she doesn't want him to leave home (or is it the house?), to leave her all alone.

Alone to drown in his shadow.

He promises that he will call her after his trial is over to tell her how it went. She tries to suppress the happiness that rises within her at the prospect of another call. To hear from him more than once a year.

He promises that it would not be another three years before they see each other again. Miles will try to see her again in the fall, if he's not too busy. She reminds him to not make promises he cannot keep. He smiles.

He puts his arms around her in a light embrace. She stays still, not trusting herself when he is so close. He whispers a 'Happy Birthday' in her ear and places a kiss on top of her head in a very brotherly fashion. Her face flushes and she curses her body for betraying her and falling victim to such weak emotions.

Miles unravels his arms and gives his big sister one last smile as he walks out the door with his hands in the deep pockets of his dress coat.

Franziska closes the door quickly and does not see when he stops to look back one more time.

He is gone.

She is alone.

And she does not miss him.

Because that would make her weak.

She looks at her gift, her weapon.

She does not miss him…

…why was Miles Edgeworth always the only exception?

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Sweet Sixteen

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A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed that. I was just so inspired I just had to write this…I actually started writing this one in the notepad on my cell phone Fun times…

So this one was really interesting to write…first of all Miles and Franziska are just intriguing characters and have a wonderful vocabulary and whatnot…but the way I wrote this was much different than I had written anything else before….

I actually wrote all the dialog first…and nothing else. I added all Franziska's thoughts when I typed it up on my computer. So I really hope it came out okay.

I hope you enjoy it and there should be more to come…soon-ish…hopefully…if I get inspired again.

So anyway, please review. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Even flames at this point. I don't care just review.

Oh, and if anyone could tell me if the German is right that would be really cool, too.


	2. Chapter 2: Hass

Disclaimer: I do not own Phoenix Wright:Ace Attorney. I am merely borrowing the wonderful characters.

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Hass

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June 16, 2002

Von Karma Mansion, Germany

1:35 pm

She hated this.

She hated this house; its snobbish decadence and pompous grandeur. It was all fake, all phony, like the people who came in and out frequently for lavish parties that were held at the von Karma estate at least once a month (because that was expected of such a high standing public official).

She hated her school. The children who attended there were just as pompous and snooty as the adults who grace her abode far too often. They were the personification of perfection; perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect lives. She was not perfect.

She hated her father, most of all.

She hated him more than the annoying party guests and perfect peers. He was the dominating force that ran the von Karma household like clockwork. He was the powerful man who walked through the halls of the estate as if he was greater than God, Himself. Her father thought very highly of himself and very little of all those around him.

Especially her. She was the daughter that could not achieve perfection. That was simply unacceptable for a von Karma, so he ostracized her as a punishment for her incompetence. This was just fine as far as Ana von Karma was concerned.

She wandered around the endless hallways of the huge estate. Ana rarely had freedom to move about outside the comfort of her own room, but she felt fairly certain that she would not have the misfortune to meet the looming figure of her father in the dark corridors.

Manfred von Karma had left for America over six months ago. No one had heard hide nor hair from the man since his last trial in December.

The girl grinned as she thought of the look on the proud, "perfect" prosecutor's face and the shame that matched it when that defense attorney called him out. A pang coursed through her heart at the memory. The smile retreated from her face when she thought of that poor man's untimely demise. German papers did not get too many details of the murder or the trial that followed (the only reason it was mentioned at all was because of the controversy it brought Germany's great perfectionist), but Ana remembered the suspicions that rose in her mind as she read the black and white of the newsprint. Was this not just like the time--

"…Ana?" The girl turned her head in the direction of the little voice that called her.

"Why, hello there, Prinzessin." Ana smiled warmly at her little sister. The small girl seemed like the only reason for Ana to leave the confines of her room as of late. She would gladly brave the terror of Manfred von Karma to see the little smile of the small girl who stood before her now. The smile that did not appear on her face. "What's up, chickie-boom?"

The blue haired toddler looked up. She pointed to the extravagant chandelier dangling down form the dining room ceiling. "The chandelier," she said in a stoic voice. Ana rolled her eyes. She should have seen that one coming.

"I meant, what is wrong?" The girl became quiet and turned away from Ana so that she could not read her pudgy face.

Ana became even more concerned at her little sister's actions. "What is it?" she goaded, gently. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Her sister nodded slowly.

"…well?"

"…w-when is father coming back?" Ana's head bobbed in shock. Months had come and gone and she did not even think the three year old even noticed, or cared, that their father had been gone. Franziska von Karma rarely showed her emotions. She did not cry. She did not laugh. Once in a while, she would throw a tantrum when she did not get her way. Other than that, she was very obedient and abnormally well behaved for a child of her tender age.

This was because she was trained to be the perfect von Karma before she could even walk. Manfred von Karma was not a fool and would not make the same mistakes he made with Ana. He would groom the perfect von Karma heir. Even if she was just a girl. The process of Franziska's training was made easier since their mother could not say anything about it…

Rage coursed through Ana as she thought of the memory of her mother's mysterious death and all the anger it brought with it. She looked at Franziska. She would never understand what happed to their mother, but the child would always carry the blame for her death. "Do you miss him?"

Ana never blamed her.

Franziska looked at her with something akin to fury in her eyes. "No, I do not miss him," she muttered, darkly. Ana noticed her glistening eyes, ready to spill over with tears (but Ana knew they would never fall). Typical, she thought, Franziska would not want to appear weak even in front of her own sister. "I simply thought it was strange that he has been gone such a long amount of time without contacting us about his whereabouts."

"Hm. His whereabouts, Prinzessin?" she chuckled at her little sister's spectacular vocabulary. It was like speaking to an adult. "Are you worried that he will not return?" Ana could only hope.

"No," the child said, too quickly to support her previous testimony. "I know he will return." She sounded, to Ana, as if she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "I was just curious as to when he will return."

"I'm sorry, Franziska, I do not know when father will come back." Franziska's bright eyes became dull at this news. "But, as soon as I find out I will be sure that you are the first to know." Ana hoped that this small bit of reassurance would raise the child's spirits, but it seemed the girl was more melancholy than she was letting on.

"I see. Danke, Ana." With a small, sad smile the toddler waddled off towards the stairs to ascend to her own room to think.

Ana was deep in her own thoughts as she watched Franziska close the door of her room. She worried the older girl. Franziska was extremely brilliant. She could already speak both German and English fluently, she knew her times tables up to twelve, and she was in the middle of reading A Tale of Two Cities. The girl was truly a prodigy, but she missed out on many other things that normal children her age experience. She was never sung nursery rhymes (save for the few Ana sung her when she was still a baby), she never watched cartoons (she didn't even know how the television worked!), and she never wanted to color or play games. She was very serious and thought that her studies were all that mattered.

Ana was almost the exact opposite of her sister. She was free to do all those things that Franziska put off as petty, foolish activities. Ana loved drawing and watching cartoons and singing silly songs. This was probably why her father thought that she was such a failure.

He wanted her to be a prosecutor and follow the von Karma line, but she was much more content drawing and watching Pinky Rabbit than learning about law. Her mother saw this and was able to convince Manfred that law was not for her.

When her mother died, he forgot about her love of art and music and told her that she had better live up to his expectations. She did not.

Perfection never suited Ana well.

That is not to say that she was a bad student. She usually had straight A's, but she did not do everything she did with a "perfect" von Karma mindset. Manfred became fed up with his disappointing first born and moved onto Franziska to mold her inot his ideal; the perfect von Karma heir. Something that Ana could never be.

But, Ana knew that Franziska was not going to be perfect enough either.

Manfred von Karma had always wanted a boy to carry on his legacy, but fate had denied him this one perfection. His last chance was Franziska. Ana knew that their father would never think the girl was good enough, but Ana thought that she was incredible. She believed that Franziska could be the greatest prosecutor in the world because she had a strong will to win, a drive to come out on top. If that drive, that fire, was started by their over bearing father, then so be it. It would not change the facts. Nothing can overcome truth.

And that truth was that one day, Franziska would surpass their father. That was why she was perfect, because she would be able to do something the prosecutor thought was impossible.

Ana was shaken from her thought when she heard the telephone ring. She saw the maid materialized out of the woodwork and answered the phone with a practiced "Hello. Von Karma residence." She listened carefully for a moment then replied with a few rushed "Ja"'s and "Nein"'s. She placed the receiver down on the table and called Ana over. "It's your father," she whispered as she handed the girl the phone.

Wunderbar.

She took the phone from the older woman. "Danke, Frau." The woman gave a quick nod and scuttled down the hall to do other maid-ly type things. Ana took a deep breath and put the phone to her ear. Bitte, Gott, Helfen Sie mir. "Hallo, Vater. Wie geht es dir?"

A commanding voice boomed on the other side of the connection. Ana shrunk back and rolled her eyes at his horrible temper. "I am sorry, father." More scolding came over the line and Ana had to stop herself from just hanging up the phone. She noticed the Franziska's door was open a crack. Ana smiled to herself. "Yes, father. I said I was sorry!" One more reprimand came her way before her father seemed to move onto what his call was actually about. Ana was beginning to think that he called just because he wanted to yell at her.

When he was finished, Ana bid him goodbye and hung up the phone, she grinned as she heard little feet rush down stairs. Franziska looked through the bars of the railings and looked at her older sister, without saying a single word. The anticipation etched on her face must have been twisting her insides into little knots. Ana didn't think it would hurt to play with the prodigy's head a little.

"Hey there, Prinzessin."

Franziska looked at her like she was ready to burst out the questions that were no doubt plaguing her mind, but it took all her will power to revise them into a simple "Who was on the telephone?"

Ana shrugged. "No one interesting. I think it was one of those telemarketers. They must think we are Americans or something…" The three year old glared at her sister with one of the most intense stares a child her age could muster. "Oh, fine, it was father," she laughed. "You caught me." Franziska's face broke into a huge smile, then she realized what she did and veiled her feelings behind her calm, mature guise.

"When will he return?" she asked, masking the happiness that was bubbling inside her.

"He will be back within the week." She was disappointed that she only had a few short days of freedom left. The young girl did not seem to notice her sister's strife because she broke out into another large grin. "He said that he has arranged a party for his return. We have to be dressed in our best dresses."

"Why are we having a party?" Franziska cocked her head in a quizzical fashion, which was no easy task considering how she squeezed her head through the railings.

Ana shrugged again. "I'm not completely sure. He said something about having a guest stay with us, or something to that effect."

"I wonder who it is?"

"I do, too."

"I am glad that father is coming home."

Ana hated that she could not agree with her.

She hated that she could not call her house a home.

There was too much hatred and sorrow to call it that.

She hated perfection.

Something that would never be hers.

She hated that her father yelled.

Because he hated her.

She hated that she was only twelve.

She could not yell back.

She hated her father.

And everything to do with him.

Except Franziska.

Franziska was always the only exception.

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Hatred

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German Translation:

Prinzessin-Princess

Danke- Thank you

Ja- Yes

Nein- No

Wunderbar- Wonderful

Frau- Missus (Mrs.)

Bitte, Gott, Helfen Sie mir- Please, God, help me.

Hallo- Hello

Vater- Father

Wie geht es dir?- How are you?

A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed that. I know that it is a lot different than the first chapter. Ever since I found out about the older von Karma daughter I found her extremely interesting. I got some of my inspiration for her from "Disappointment" by HowObjectionable. It is a wonderful read I highly recommend it.

Also thank you to my readers, especially Indochine Ramera, winner-loser, and Sierra Silver who left wonderful reviews! Thanks so much!

Oh, and I just want to explain that these are oneshots, kinda. I mean they just are not going to be in chronological order…but, don't worry I will always at least put the date it takes place at the top. Cause, I'll bet a few people were just like "wait, wasn't Franziska like 16 in the last one?" Yes, I like to mess with your heads…no, not really it's just as the inspiration comes to me really.

Sorry if anyone doesn't like that I'm using an OC to tell this chapter, but I figured it would be easier than telling it through the eyes of a three year old (it was bad enough with an twelve year old). Even though, Ana is kinda like half an OC cause technically she exists…I guess. I hope she was okay.

So, please read and review. It makes me happy.

And inspires me! *wink* *wink*

A cookie for whoever catches the Hotel Dusk reference.


	3. Chapter 3: Tanz mit mir

Disclaimer: I do not own Phoenix Wright:Ace Attorney. I am merely borrowing the wonderful characters.

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Tanz mit mir

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June 21, 2002

Von Karma Mansion

8:15 pm

All these people.

Franziska had never seen this many people before in her life.

This was the first time she was ever allowed to join one of father's parties. The girl would always remember watching the guests come and go from her spot on the staircase. None of the adults ever noticed the little head poking through the railings. Franziska was always slightly annoyed that none of the adults father had over never noticed her.

Did they not know who she was?

She was Franziska von Karma! She was the heir of the finest prosecutor who ever lived. Her father was perfect and she would be as well, one day. She wanted to be just like her father.

Manfred von Karma was the symbol of all the girl aspired to be. He was the dominating force that ran the household like clockwork. He walked through the hallways as though he was greater than God, Himself.

One day, Franziska knew she would command the same fear and respect that her father did. But, at present, she was just a three year old girl being gushed over by foolish adults. She just kept a polite smile on her face and let the fools blabber all they want. She just wanted to find her father.

She had not seen him for so long. He did not even greet her when he returned. She just came down from her room (wearing her finest dress, of course) and found that there was a party already going on.

Look at them. Foolish fools whirling about to foolhardy music that would, of course, seem interesting to such fools.

It did look fun, though.

No! It did not look fun. It was foolish! She would not lower herself to such trivial things like fun. If she did such a foolish thing like dance, she would not be perfect. Father said she had to be perfect. He told her she had better live up to his expectations. She would.

Franziska decided she would just ignore the dancing fools and let them revel in the land of fools. It was not as if she wanted to dance, anyway. Even if she wanted to dance, which she certainly did not, the adults were all too tall for her to dance with.

The girl blew out an exasperated sigh and turned to leave when she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around with a prepared, polite smile on her face, expecting another foolish adult that wanted to blubber over her, but was surprised to find a young boy. Well, he was older than her by a few years, judging by his height, but he was young in comparison to the other party goers. She was so surprised by the boy that she did not even notice that he was saying something to her. He looked like he was expecting an answer. "Was sagst du?"

"Möchten Sie tanzen?" the boy repeated. He put his hand out for the girl to take. A small smile was etched across his face.

Franziska pouted and turned her face away from the foolish (handsome) boy in front of her. Did he not know who she was?

His insolence and total disregard for whom he was speaking to was making her blood boil. And not only that, his German was horribly laced with some American accent she was not accustomed to. She decided she did not like this boy.

"No," she replied as she snootily lifted her nose, as if her mere presence was offensive to her senses. "Only foolish fools dance around like fools, and I assure you I am no such fool." Franziska gave a small smile as she saw the astonished look on the boy's face. He must have thought that she could not speak English. The fool. "And besides, you are far too tall to dance with me. It would look foolish." The blank stare on the boy's face left the three year old with a satisfied feeling, so she turned her back on the flabbergasted boy and marched away.

The prodigy had almost made her escape, when she was once again tapped on the shoulder. If it was that boy again…!

She raised her head to make eye contact with the whelp, but his head was not there. Franziska lowered her gaze and found that the boy's face was level with her own.

He had the same smile on his lips and held out his hand to her as he did before. Only now, he was on his knees. "Would this be less foolish, fräulein?"

Franziska scoffed. "No, it would be completely foolish."

The smile never left his face. "Would you dance with me?"

Franziska wanted to slap him for his utter audacity to even propose it a second time. She wanted to yell at him for being so foolish. She wanted to run away from him.

So, what in the world made her take his hand?

His small smile grew even wider as he lead her out to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the foyer. Franziska could not help but chuckle at how he shuffled on his knees trying to get to the center of the dance floor, maneuvering around the many, much taller adults. What had made her think this was a good idea? She was never known for taking pleasure in such silly indulgences. She was the heir of a great legacy! Why in Heaven's name was she allowing this fool to drag her into his shenanigans?

The boy waited for the band (father always had a small ensemble to play at his parties) to start playing again. The band struck up a waltz and the boy bent down into a deep bow. He nearly fell over because of the awkward position he was in, but somehow was able to keep his balance. Franziska could not hold back the giggle the bubbled in her throat.

There was no doubt that this boy was a fool, but what had made her take his hand?

This question was still flying around her head. Was it because he was so persistent? Was it because he was he showed her some silly form of chivalry? Was it because he…?

What ever the reason, the fact remained that she was going to dance with the boy in the midst of all of her father's friends and colleagues. She looked at the boy once more. Her left hand rested on his shoulder, his right hand stayed on her small waist, and her right hand was held in his left. He spun her around, wobbling on his knees, and smiled a smile that showed her a row of his white teeth. They were dancing.

There was no doubt that this boy was irksome, but there was also something that intrigued the small girl. He was more interested in his surroundings than her father's guests were. He looked like a child in a candy store; his eyes were wide and looked about the large room and roamed the high ceilings, that always seemed too far away to touch (much like her father) and the ornate walls that hung classical paintings (Ana had told her, once, that they owned an Osterzone painting, who, apparently, was a very accomplished artist, according to her sister).

She did not know why this boy interested her so much. He wasn't anything special. He had light brown hair, almost gray, which was slicked back stylishly. A cowlick protruded from the back of his head. He would almost look presentable if it was not for that silly thing.

Plus, the fact that he was dancing a waltz with a three year old girl on his knees was not helping him either.

Other than that, he was very charming, albeit foolhardy. Truth be told, there was no real reason for the girl to find such intrigue in her dance partner. She should not have him so interesting. He was not perfect.

…but, maybe that did not matter.

No, of course it mattered! She was a von Karma and that meant she had no choice but to be perfect. Franziska knew well enough that she could not have this boy as a friend if she wanted to fulfill her destined perfection. No, this boy could not be her friend because he would stand in the way of her goal.

Nothing would stand in her way.

"What is your name?" The music continued to play, but the two young dancers froze in place. Franziska looked at the boy with a look of complete shock across her chubby face and the boy seemed to mirror it. Who had asked that question? Surely, she did not ask…

Did she?

"M-my name is Miles." Apparently, she did, seeing as the boy, Miles, just gave a response.

"Miles." Franziska rolled his name off her tongue. It was strange. Why, all of a sudden, was she doing these things? She could not come up with anything that justified such foolishness. "I-it is a nice name."

Miles' smile returned and Franziska felt her insides turn. This boy was truly making her sick.

The worst part was that she did not know why.

They started to dance again in compatible silence. Franziska let her head rest on his shoulder (she was feeling sleepy and he was the only thing that she could rest on at the moment, she reasoned) as she listened to the steady tempo of the waltz that floated around them.

The music came to a slow halt, drifting off to rest in the rafters of the old mansion. Franziska lifted her head from Miles' shoulder. That blasted smile was still stretched across his stupid face. She felt like she was going to be sick. What was wrong with her? He gave her hand that was held in his a squeeze. Franziska returned the smile hoping that he would let her go so that she could make her grand escape. She ripped her hand away from his and started to make a run for it, but stopped when she heard him call out to her.

"Wait!" Miles cried. "You haven't told me your name yet." Franziska stopped to let her mind process what he was asking. She could at least tell him her name, she supposed. It couldn't hurt.

The girl turned around to look at Miles. She let out a small laugh when she saw that he was still on his knees. His face lit up when he heard the titter. She composed herself, and curtsied, less awkwardly than his bow, but it still earned a laugh from the older boy. "My name is Fra-"

"Miles Edgeworth, what are you doing on the floor like some common street urchin?" A voice boomed through the foyer. Manfred von Karma had made his way through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. People on either side of the prosecutor quickly scooted aside so that the man could get through.

Miles' smiling face fell in to a look of pure horror. He quickly scrambled to his feet and brushed his pants off. "E-es tut mir leid, Herr von Karma," stuttered Miles, desperately trying to appear decent in the presence of the proclaimed prosecutor. " Ich war gerade-"

"Speak English, boy. Your German is terrible," boomed the tall man. Miles squeaked a "yes, sir" and attempted to sink back into the sea of people. Manfred would not this though and took the boy by the shoulder. He looked down and saw Franziska next to where Miles just was on the dance floor. "I see that you have met my daughter." Miles looked at the girl with an astonished look on his face. So, he did not know who she was…

Miles looked back at the bearish man and nodded uncertainly. This was not the right thing to do.

"Speak, boy. You have a voice, use it." Miles started to nod again, but caught himself and squeaked another small "yes, sir." Franziska watched in amazement. Her father was able to make the unruly Miles behave like a proper child in less than a minute. He was truly an example of the perfect man.

One day, Franziska would be just like him.

Miles looked at her and all her admiration for her father seemed to melt away. Just that one pitiful look from that rag-a-muffin boy made her weak.

Why…?

Just as she was trying to come up with a solution for her unexplainable weakness, Manfred von Karma cleared his throat loudly so that he could garner the room's attention (as if he did not have their undivided attention as soon as he walked into the room).

"I have a very important announcement to make." Every head turned to look where the thunderous voice resounded from and within one second all eyes were on Manfred von Karma. "This…young man, is Miles Edgeworth, the son of the late Gregory Edgeworth." Franziska and Miles were so distracted by the murmurs that erupted all around them that they did not notice the one gasp that fell from Ana's lips or the evil smirk that Herr von Karma was trying to suppress. Miles felt extremely uncomfortable because now all eyes were on him, the son of the late Gregory Edgeworth, but he could not escape their stares because he was trapped by the prosecutor's large hand that was clamped to his shoulder. "I have decided to watch after the boy since he has no mother and no other relatives. I will take him under my wing so that he, too, will be a great prosecutor!" This statement earned a great response from the crowded room.

Manfred looked pleased and Miles looked like he was about to throw up, but Franziska felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach. This boy, the boy who danced with her, the boy who made her stomach hurt with his smile, was going to be her father's new student? He was going to teach this cretin to be a prosecutor…? This could not be. There must have some mistake, some misunderstanding. Her heart seemed to break in two. Was she not going to be her father's perfect prosecutor, anymore?

Manfred von Karma raised his free hand to silence the room. "I have decided to let him live here, in my mansion, so that he may have a place to call…home for his childhood years, instead of some dingy orphanage-" Manfred stopped speaking when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down to find that Miles was looking at him quite earnestly. "What is it, boy?" he whispered through gritted teeth so that the guests, who were still applauding his selfless kindness, would not hear.

Miles did not seem to catch on.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't want to be a prosecutor. I want to be a defense attorney, like my father," Miles explained, a little too loudly. When the people in the crowd head this they started laughing uproariously.

The prosecutor's face twisted with such anger that Franziska did not even recognize her father. His grip on Miles' arm became stronger and the boy's face crinkled in response to the pain. No one noticed, they were all still laughing.

"Father!" Franziska called out before she even realized that she spoke. Why did her mouth keep betraying her like this tonight?

The man's head turned to look at his daughter and his grip loosened on the boy's shoulder. Manfred von Karma's face softened slightly, but it was still quite a fearsome sight. "What is it, Totcher?"

"I believe that Miles Edgeworth is quite tired from his long journey and the night's festivities. May I show him to the guest bedroom so that he may get some sleep?" What was possessing her to say this? Why was she saving this foolish boy?

Manfred seemed to mulled this over in his head. It would do no good to berate the boy in front of all these witnesses, guests. The boy would come to his senses, or he would not enjoy his time at the von Karma mansion. Perhaps, it would be best to let the boy sleep, for now. "That is a wonderful idea, Franziska." The girl curtsied to her father and he nodded to her to signal his approval. She motioned to Miles, who jumped to her side as soon as he found himself free from von Karma's grip.

When they turned to leave, the prosecutor apologized and explained to his guests that the children were simply too tired and had to retire for the night. He clapped for the band to start playing again and all the people started to dance once again, as if they were never interrupted.

Franziska led him out of the foyer, through the grand hallways, and up the staircase. She brought him to the last room at the end of the corridor, the room that was the furthest away from her own. The door swung open with a turn of the handle to reveal a small room with a four poster bed and a wood dresser. It was not much, but it would suffice for the ten year old. "Here." Franziska turned around to leave the boy, when he called to her once again.

"Thank you," he whispered. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "I mean…for helping me out…and stuff." Why was the fool blushing? Didn't he realize what she was doing?

"My name is Franziska von Karma," she stated, proudly. "I help no one, especially fools. And you, Miles Edgeworth, are a fool." She had to put him in his place.

"Oh." Miles did not know how to respond. "Well…"

"Go to bed, Miles Edgeworth. You will be expected at the breakfast table no later than six, tomorrow," the child eplained, sternly. She was in charge.

"In the morning?" Miles asked, his eyes opened wide at the prospect of getting up so early. Franziska nodded. "That early?" And she would make sure that he understood and that he would not forget.

"Yes." Franziska did not like this boy. "You had best get used to it if you are to live here." With this she turned her back on the boy. He stood in the doorway to his new room alone for a moment before he spoke again.

"Thank you, again, Franziska." Franziska stopped halfway down the hall. She heard the door to the guest room close, gently.

She would be perfect.

And she would crush anyone who stood in her way.

Miles Edgeworth was no exception.

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Dance with me

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German Translation

Was sagst du?- What did you say?

Möchten Sie tanzen?- Would you like to dance?

Fräulein- Miss

Es tut mir leid- I am sorry

Herr- Mister

Ich war gerade…- I was just…

Totcher- Daughter

A/N: So here's another chapter! Two snow days in a row are great for writing fanfiction doncha know?

So I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. More Franziska and (drum roll) Miles! I love writing Miles. He's the best…Franziska's fun too. So yeah next chapter will probably be Miles POV, cause I feel bad that he's left out…

Also, thank you to all my readers and reviewers, especially Indochine Ramera, LadyDisdain89, and SierraSilver! But, I have a slight bone to pick with you guys…I see that this story has gotten over one hundred hits, but only six reviews? Something doesn't seem to add up. So, I'm going to do what every other mean fanfiction author does!

I will hold my next chapter ransom until I have a total of five (5) reviews for this chapter! Mwahahahahahahahahaaaa~!

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Um, yeah, so please just read and review, kay?


	4. Chapter 4: Weiter zu sprechen

A/N: Guys, I am so sorry! I know I said that I would give you the next chapter as soon as I got 5 reviews, but my brain just went to mush! I couldn't think of anything! It was horrible. I mean, I knew what I wanted to write but it wouldn't come out right. I hope you guys like this chapter, I had to put a lot of elbow grease into it.

And of course I have to thank my reviewers!

A special thanks to Indochine Ramera, SierraSilver, Derrick, BloodDawn, Black Mage Hiyasha, Rindiny, iryna, and Silvara! I can't believe I got a whole 9 reviews for that chapter! Thanks so much! And thanks to all those who favorited the story too! I really appreciate your words and advice and stuff of that nature.

Also, just in case anyone was wondering…this story really isn't meant to be funny (as you will soon see in this chapter…). I mean, I put it under Family and Hurt/Comfort. So its not going to be a really knee slappin' comedy….I mean, c'mon the von Karma's are not exactly the most lively crowd to begin with…except Franziska. The way she whips Phoenix and Scruffy and the Judge and Edgeworth and etc. etc. has me laughing all day…

Oh, and just so you know, this chapter is kinda like a continuation of the first chapter...just fyi.

But, anyway, without further ado…

Weiter zu sprechen

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October 20, 2015

High Prosecutor's Office

Room 1202

3:15 pm

"It has been months, Miles Edgeworth." He should have known this phone call was coming. "Your phone call is eight months overdue and I demand to know why." He just wished it did not.

It was, in fact, exactly eight months since his visit to Ms. von Karma in February. She was exact, precise, as always.

What should he tell her?

"Franziska, I am sorr--"

"I do not want to hear a pathetic apology, little brother." The truth? "I want to know why you thought would be acceptable to break the promise you made to me." No.

She would not understand.

"I did not call you because I have been horribly busy with my cases these past few months." He did not want her to understand.

"Liar." The accusation stung. "You did not call me because you are still preoccupied with that foolish SL-9 case." Because, she was right.

Did he not know by now?

"How did you know?" She was always right.

A silence surrounded him.

"I am in Germany, Miles, not under a rock." His mind was reeling, he could not think straight.

He wanted to speak, but he could not find the right words to say. He was drowning.

What could he say?

Could he tell her that he did what the papers said he did? Tell her that he was indeed the "Demon Prosecutor" the media was making him out to be. Tell her that he forged the evidence so that Joe Darke, the horrible, filthy murderer, would be found guilty. Tell her that everything that she heard about him was true. Tell her that the "Demon Prosecutor" was justified in making false evidence. Darke was a murderer. He deserved his sentence.

Murderer, killers, criminals, they were all the same.

They deserved to their punishments. To take a life of another human being is unforgivable.

Could he tell her that he, himself, deserved the same sentence as Darke? That he himself was a murderer?

Franziska, did you know that when I was nine, I took a gun and killed my…?

"Is that the reason you never called me?"

No!

She wouldn't understand.

Franziska would hate him. She hated criminals just as much as he did.

But, wasn't he one himself?

He was suffocating.

The memories of that horrible day were resurfacing and drowning him. He couldn't breathe.

He would just tell her he forged the evidence.

Franziska would hate him. She wouldn't want to speak to him ever again.

Did he want that?

Wouldn't it be easier?

"Why do you not talk to me, Miles Edgeworth?" He wanted to speak now, but he felt weak.

His head was spinning, everything was a blur. Tell her. No. Tell her. No. Tell her! No! TELL HER! NO!

He couldn't show his weakness. A von Karma…

"What are your thinking?" The memories were consuming him, drowning him. Miles could not escape the suffocating memories of that damned elevator. Did he really kill his own…? No, he could not escape this. He could not escape her.

TELL HER!

"Tell me."

"Franziska." This was it. He was going to tell her that he was the "Demon Prosecutor," the very thing he had been avoiding for months. "I forged the evidence."

The silence was deafening. Neither side spoke, the only sound was the crackling through the receiver from the long distance connection.

"Why do you keep lying to me?" How did she know?

"…How…?"

"Miles, you may find this hard to believe, but, I know you. You would never cheat, especially when a person's life hung in the balance." She didn't think he…?

Miles felt as if a great weight had been taken off of him. It was like the doors finally slide open and free him.

"You are weak," her harsh statement interrupted his thoughts and hung a even heavier albatross around his neck. "You would never forge evidence in order to have the defendant found guilty," Franziska scoffed. "You would rather find your precious truth, correct?"

"Finding truth is not weakness, Franziska," replied Miles, defensively.

"No, but it is certainly running away like a fool of a dog with its foolish tail between its legs!" she yelled. She was right. "That is what I call weakness, Miles Edgeworth."

Franziska von Karma was always right.

"I am sorry, Fran--"

"What did I say about your pathetic apologies?" she snapped at him. If she was here, he would no doubt be getting a lashing from her new whip. She had eight months to practice after all.

"I am--" Miles started, but thought better of it. "You are right, Franziska."

"…hm, that's better." She sounded pleased, and little surprised.

Even though Franziska called him her "little brother," Miles always found that he had to protect her.

"Franziska?"

"Yes, Miles?"

"I…I am afraid I may have to break another promise of mine." He had to protect her.

"W-what?"

"I will not be able to visit you this fall." Even if she may hate him for it. "Actually, I may not be able to see you for a very long time."

She did not respond, but Miles could only imagine the rage that must have been brewing on the other side of the connection.

"I think it best to wait until this whole situation has blown over." Miles knew how the media twists things. They took everything he had, everything he worked for and made it ugly.

He couldn't let them have Franziska.

Franziska, who strove so hard to work to fulfill the von Karma creed. She worked so hard to be who she, and her father, wanted to be. He had to protect her. The media would destroy her, and she would never know perfection.

And then she would hate him even more than she does now.

This would be easier.

"I can not come, Franziska. It is better this way, trust me," Miles explained, his voice tender. He wanted her to understand that this was for the best.

It was for the best.

At least, that is what he told himself.

The young German prosecutor took a few moments to register what he said. "Very well, if you feel that is best, Miles." Her voice was soft, sad even.

"Thank you for understanding, Franziska." This was for the best. There was an awkward silence between the two von Karma apprentices. "Um, well, goodbye, then."

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"I know you cannot visit, but…could you at least call once in a while?" Franziska's voice was hushed, as if trying to hide the urgency of her request.

It was easier this way.

A tender smile crept its way onto his face. "…Of course, Franziska."

"You know, Miles, you always try to overcome your problems on your own. That is not strength."

"And it is not weakness to be able to rely on oneself." Miles' steady reply seemed to silence the girl on the other side, but he was confident that she knew that he comprehended what she meant. "I will call again soon, I promise."

"…very well. Fare well, Miles." Miles could hear the happiness in her voice that she tried so hard to hide.

"Goodbye, Franziska." And with that the connection was cut.

Miles had to protect her.

He had to protect her against the media.

He had to protect her from…

Himself.

If she knew the truth about his past…

He had to protect Franziska against everything.

Even if she hated him for the rest of her life.

He would protect her.

There would be no exception.

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Keep talking

A/N: Once again I want to apologize if this chapter is not quite up to par. And for taking so long to get it posted. The plot bunnies kept my brain hostage and I had a strong urge to draw lots and lots of fanart…

BTW this chapter was kinda based off the Pink Floyd song "Keep Talking." Also the title of the chapter is more literarily translated to "continue talking." Just fyi.

So, if you could please read and review…it would be much appreciated.

I will not be asking for a certain number this time because last time it jinxed me…but that doesn't mean you don't review.

Please? It will make me happy.

Plus, maybe it will inspire me to update sooner….hopefully.

Read and review, por favor.


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